But Never Doubt
by Tell-Tale Told
Summary: It's a little early for me to upload this, but whatever. Um, this is a little bit on the crack-side, but a new fic nonetheless. Yaoi to be included, so don't like don't read. EliteUnder. Comment if you like. GUH, COMPLETE. Whoo  Klondike Bars for me.
1. Chapter 1

Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire

Cold was the start of winter over the land of Sinnoh, harsh were the winds whipping thick ice and snow against the Earth. The farther north, the more likely it seemed that your blood would freeze—as would all warmth would escape even Hell (or Distortion World, whichever the series believes it is). How dead the season was…

…Eh, no, no, that's what a poet would say. Just because one reads poetry doesn't mean everything should be described like so, isn't that right, Lucian?

"Did someone call me?" Lucian looked up from his anthology of dark-themed poetry, startled by the narrative voice in the sky. The Psychic Elite was sitting alone on a plush antique recliner, feet raised comfortably on an ottoman, all set contently close to the fire place in the castle's den (just imagine those old movies by Alfred Hitchcock where there's usually a rich person displayed like that of what I described).

"Hm. I suppose I'm just hearing things. Well, then…" Lucian said to himself. It was early in December, and the region was incredibly, ball shrinking-ly cold once Winter came around. Lucian loved Winter; him being a lover of literature, the season was oft depicted as a metaphor relating to Death, loneliness, or depression. Most, if not all the greats in the written arts have used Winter for such reasons; the usage was appreciated by Lucian and the idea stuck with him for as long as he could remember. Now, he found himself as he has been for years: seated near a fire with a book in Winter (which, in actuality, is him in every season. The man is twenty and reading books for a living? A little pathetic, really…).

"Excuse me, but did someone just refer to me as 'pathetic' for my hobby being reading books?" the lavender-haired man asked aloud in an irritable manner.

Why, yes, I did, Lucian.

"Who is that? How dare you make such a remark! Come out at once!" the man snapped.

Oh, Lucian! You are so funny. Can you even begin to imagine how crazy you sound right now, talking to voices in the sky?

"Oh, you…! Flint, is it you? Or one of his friends, perhaps? I demand you show yourself at once!" Lucian was growing more aggravated at this rather offensive voice.

Don't worry, Lucian, it's not _that _abomination of a human being! Or any of his accomplices, for the matter being I don't even like him. Truth be told, I cannot show myself to you. I probably don't even exist.

"That's ludicrous. How could you not exist if I can hear you so clearly?"

Cynthia bought new surround-sound for the den.

"Very funny," Lucian said flatly. "Really, who are you?"

I told you, I probably don't even exist. I'm just a voice. A voice who happens to have to have the all-knowing perspective of God.

Lucian's expression grew dumbfounded. His glasses slid down a bit; was he talking to God?

No, Lucian, you're not talking to God.

"How did you know I was thinking that?" an astounded Lucian shrieked.

Gee, you'd think a Psychic would be able to tell _me _that. I've told you already; I have God's perspective. You must strain your eyes reading such small text so much that you don't pay attention to the wax build-up in your ears blocking your hearing anymore.

A faint pink blush stained his cheeks. "That is not true. I keep very clean, mind you. My hygiene is not an issue. And my vision is a _hereditary _concern, for your information." He adjusted the glasses on his face and sank further into the recliner.

Ha ha ha. I know that, Lucian. I know many things about you. But that's another matter. What my reason for being here is not to mock you—albeit fun to do—but to help you.

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Help me? Help me with what?"

Oh, you'll find out soon, Lucian. When the time is right, you'll know—you're a smart boy. All the factors will come into play slowly.

Hard to believe, but Lucian was interested in what the voice said. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I suppose it'd make sense to just take in what you say. I mean, supposedly you do not even exist, and to be frank, I may be insane for actually responding—let alone have an entire conversation with you—though some of what you've said is not all a lie. Existent or not, nevertheless I will listen to what you have to say. Now that we've made an understanding—oh, my Lord, am I really saying this?—I would like an explanation to what these _factors_, as you say, are."

Ha ha ha. Soon, Lucian, soon. Every factor will appear sequentially to your convenience and will lead to solving a problem you've been having for a while.

Just as the voice in the sky stopped, the door to the den opened with a clicking sound.

Ah-ha, speaking of the first factor, here he comes!

Lucian turned to the door then looked back at the ceiling. "What? The factor? What do you mean? What problem?"

There was loud clacking against the wood floor into the den. It was the sound of Flint's wooden flip-flops. Lucian's head whipped down to see the afro-headed man raising an eyebrow at him.

"…Freak…" Flint mumbled as he plopped on down the antique loveseat, the farthest piece of furniture away from Lucian, to his relief.

Lucian glared at him. _Yes, so says the man with the uncanny resemblance to Ronald McDonald, _Lucian thought. He picked up and opened his book to the page he left off on before the voice offended him.

"I really don't care why or who, but what's up with you shouting at the ceiling?" Flint asked, his finger gracing the inside of his left nostril. Lucian lowered his book and shot him another glare. "If you don't care, then why ask?"he questioned with a bitter voice. Flint, with his finger still probing the orifice of mucus expulsion, replied simply, "Just waiting until we find a reason to put you in a home." Lucian put his book down harshly against his crossed legs, his eyes boring holes in Flint with an intense, angered stare.

"What do you want, Flint?" Lucian hissed. Flint retracted his finger, a treasure being glued onto his digit after the excavation. "I'm waiting for someone." He said, wiping the treasure on the loveseat. Lucian rolled his eyes. "Who could you possibly be waiting for in an environment where so many books surround you? It's the equivalent of waiting in a library with you." The sarcasm flooded the bespectacled man's speech; he detested Flint and how rude he was.

Flint then decided to let his hand travel up his shirt and probed around his belly button. "I told Aaron to meet me here in about ten minutes. I have a _surprise _for him."

Lucian's gut sank. "A-Aaron? Wha-what- why do you…" Lucian stuttered. Aaron, the youngest Elite who specialized in Bug types, was Lucian's secret. Aaron was bubbly, cheerful, a ball of sunshine. He was cute, painfully cute, and so, so very sweet. Sweetheart Aaron's pretty face had taken a toll on Lucian's heart. He was sure he had fallen in love with the boy with the sun in his eyes. Lucian found himself growing more open when he was around the younger Elite. Aaron's smile made Lucian feel so rejuvenated, so alive—and he was crazy for him. Aaron had been hanging around his superior more often as well, the two becoming close friends, despite the clash in personalities.

I knew he was setting up something! You're right, he does look like that psycho restaurant mascot bastard! Are you gonna let that cheeseburger-guzzling rip-off hurt your man?

Lucian gasped quietly. "What're you saying? He's going to hurt Aaron?" he exclaimed to the voice from the sky.

Flint looked at him funny again. "Ok, you and that ceiling thing is freaky, cut it out. Besides, I'm not gonna hurt the kid!" he protested.

Lies! All vicious lies! Don't do it, Lucian! Don't listen to his words of evil!

The Psychic Elite nodded in conformity and adjusted his glasses. "What do you want from him, then?"

"No, nothing, I just wanted to see him for a bit. I really want to give him a little something." Flint smiled at Lucian innocently, which the older man wasn't buying one bit.

Liar! Lucian, don't give in to the lie!

"I know that! Flint is as good a liar as he is a charitable person!" Lucian told the voice. Flint's expression fell.

"Lies? Please, I'm anything but. Aaron and I are good pals! He's my main squeeze, my home boy, my little sandwich-making hombre!" Flint laughed. His smile seemed very genuine. Maybe he isn't lying.

NO! He speaks of evil!

"Well, I guess you're telling the truth," Lucian hesitated.

What the Hell's the matter with you, Lucy? Didn't I just tell you he was lying?

"But he sounds like he genuinely cares about Aaro—"

Shut up, Liam! Listen to me now! He speaks to deceive you! He will eat your soul and sodomize your mother!

"Oh, my God, that's disgusti—"

"Uh, Lucian, for real, dude, you and the ceiling; it's kinda creepy…" Flint said.

See that, Lebron? He mocks you and the all-knowing voice of possibly-God!

"What? No, if you had just kept calm—"

"Dude, really, stop it! This is freaking scary!"

SILENCE! Lindsay, I command you to get up off your lazy ass and go find Aaron! He can't be left alone with Flint!

"Please, just st—"

"DUDE!"

"Flint, I'm so sor—"

Shut up, Lauren!

"I'm trying to expl—"

Listen to me, Lillian! OBEY me, Leonard!

"Dude, I'm serious!"

DON'T LISTEN BARBARA! GO AND FIND AARON NOW!

"Everyone, please, I—"

"DUDE, STOP TALKING TO THE GOD DAMN CEILING!"

HE STILL SLEEPS WITH A BLANKEY AND CALLS IT "FLOOFY BOO-BOO!"

"EVERYONE, JUST PLEASE, KINDLY SHUT THE HELL UP!" Lucian shouted to the top of his lungs, possibly causing an avalanche in Snowpoint City. Flint got scared, giving Lucian the "I just wet myself" look. Even the voice was quiet. Did Lucian keep that voice bottled up? He was scary when mad to begin with, but the angry scream was terrifying. His chest heaved up and down shallowly, his glasses askew, and a single lavender strand of hair stood up on the top of his head. He was confused and pissed, and just wanted everyone to shut up.

"Eep…." A small voice whimpered from behind. Lucian, Flint, and possibly the voice, turned their heads to the door. Standing in the room was a quivering, petrified Aaron. He had tears welling on the corners of his eyes. His hands were covering his crotch, presumably having experienced what Flint had. "Lucian…you're so scary when you're mad…" the tears started rolling down his cheeks.

"Aaron! Oh, no, I didn't mean to yell! I wasn't even mad at you! Oh, Aaron!" Lucian fixed his glasses and ran to the boy crying in the doorway.

Everybody, give a warm welcome to factor two…

Lucian closed the door behind the boy, and grabbed his hand. Aaron jumped, still scared that Lucian was still on this testosterone-fueled rage. "It's ok, Aaron. I'm not mad, see?" Aaron looked up at the older Elite, who was flashing a warm smile at him. "Here, sit down with us."

Aaron was seated on the loveseat opposite to Flint. Lucian pulled the handkerchief out from his breast pocket and wiped away the boy's tears. "There, all better." Lucian smiled again at Aaron, and he in turn smiled sweetly, making Lucian melt.

Aww, so cute! He really is adorable, Lucian. I can understand now why you have those inappropriate fantasies about this little cutie!

Lucian blushed deeply. "Please! Not…now…" he told the voice shakily. Aaron tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixing on the ceiling. "What're you talking to on the ceiling, Lucian?" Aaron asked in such a cute way, Hello Kitty would vomit due to excessive cuteness.

"Pfft, you kidding me? This whack-job has been talking to the ceiling all night long!" Flint chimed. Lucian, again, shot a death glare at him. Aaron had a lost expression on his face.

Lucian, take this opportunity to question Flint!

"What?" the man cocked his head up.

Yes, he wanted to see Aaron, remember? So go on, prove to all of us that Flint is a phony!

"Oh, right! Ahem. Flint?" started Lucian. The afro-headed man glanced at him momentarily before sticking his other finger in his right nostril. "What?"

"You wanted to give Aaron here a special _surprise_, didn't you?" he asked coyly. Flint's shocked expression while finger up his nose gave the two Elites a priceless picture. Aaron's eyes widened and his face completely lit up. "A SURPRISE? Oh, yay! Thanks, Flint! So where's my surprise, huh? Huh, Flint, where is it—where's my surprise, huh, Flint? Huh? Huh, Flint?" Aaron bounced. Lucian looked at Flint slyly.

"Shit." Mumbled Flint.

Hey, audience, this is to be continued in chapter two! So come back later! Go AWAY!

"Wait, wait, what? What 'chapter two'?" asked Lucian.


	2. Chapter 2

Doubt Thou the Sun Doth Move

Deep into the dark, cold night. What a way to describe the scenery which so vividly is far worse than it could ever begin to sound. It does the situation no justice!—justice? Ha! There can never be enough done regardless of introduction! No, only can the very tears, the ripples in blood, the aches in every possible body part our hero—self-proclamation?—describe how gruesome the chamber was! Oh, his blood!—his poor lover's blood!—left in the hands of his wrong-doer, the one and only colleague that both our hero and his young love have put their faith in so many times before! The betrayal was _nothing _in comparison to what he did. The life of a beautiful, angel-faced boy was mercilessly taken, all in front of the man who never had the chance—the chance for so many words left unsaid… no one can ever bring the burst of life that he loved so dearly back. It'd be pathetic to say he was merely _mourning_. Petty _mourning! _What kind of a disgusting excuse for a word dare be said to him! He was _suffocating_—slowly his sanity spiraled into disillusioned madness, the deterioration of the fabric holding reality together was ripping, shredding!—why, oh why was it not _him?_—why, oh why—

"Are you quite finished?" exclaimed Lucian. Again, Flint and Aaron both turned to the ceiling, wondering what the Hell this man was talking to.

Oh, sorry Lucian. I just thought, y'know, wouldn't it be cool if we kinda psyched out the audience by leading them to believe that Flint killed Aaro—

"What audience?" he asked. Aaron tilted his head. "Audience? Like, 'People laughing whenever someone says 'master of my domain' on Seinfeld' kind of audience?" he asked, his eyes glittering with a genuine innocence that only he can possess.

Flint rolled his eyes, finally taking his finger out of his nose. "God, first you start talking to the ceiling, now you're trying to convince Tweedle Dum over there that there really is a magic invisible voice in the sky!"

For your information, a voice can't be magical or invisible! It is merely something that can be heard. A voice can be bodiless, faceless, ominous, or if someone is suffering from some form of schizophrenia, you could also here voices—

Lucian held up his hand to silence the voice. "You needn't point out the obvious. It's not like he can hear you anyways. Besides, as slow as he is, I doubt he would even grasp the concept of you're trying to teach him." he said courtly to the voice in the sky.

Flint shot Lucian a glare. "Hey! I'm smart! Well, smarter than that goober Aaron, that's for sure!" he protested, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

…Wait, when did the coffee table get there?

"MISSING THE POINT, DEAR!" Lucian shouted to the ceiling, shaking his fist. Aaron blushed lightly and his expression fell. "Dear? Are you talking to a…girl?" he asked broken-heartedly. Lucian retracted his fist and rested his arm on Aaron's shoulder. "No, Aaron. Well, not really… it could be a woman. I don't know." He replied.

And _I'm _missing the point…

Lucian shook his head. "Oh! The voice is right… Flint, before we get sidetracked further, I'd appreciate if you'd explain what you wanted to see Aaron for." The Psychic Elite said sternly, his hand gripping onto Aaron's shoulder firmly.

Yeah, _Flint_.

The Fire Elite smiled maliciously. "Oh, yes. Well, about that, I have a little problem to solve with him. You see, _Aaron_, I have a bone to pick with you." Flint raised his arms to his chest, rolled his hands into fists, and cracked his knuckles. "I hope everyone is ok with me wanting to address this, so don't blame me if something you don't like happens."

Factor three, everyone!

"Don't blame you? Like, 'You're seen for what you really are, it's time you realized if you feel you're finally going gray' kind of?" Aaron asked innocently.

Whoever can recite the next four lines, I'll shave your back for you. I'm serious.

"That's disturbing." Lucian whispered to the voice.

"Oh, no, Aaron. I wanted to ask you if you remember yesterday at around ten in the morning. Remember? We were all at the dining room, and Bertha had just made us brunch?" Flint asked sweetly, his knuckles cracking very loudly.

I remember that! Mmm, cheese omelet and crispy bacon…

Lucian's stomach growled.

Aaron smiled nostalgically. "Mmm, of course I do! Cheese omelet and crispy bacon, yummy!" he jumped.

Oh, yeah, Lucian, I definitely approve.

Flint chuckled, "Well, so I guess you remember what happened when she walked in with our plates, right, kiddo?" he moved over to Aaron's side, hand petting his head. Lucian's hand on the green-haired boy's shoulder twitched slightly; how DARE he touch HIS lovely little Aaron!

Aaron tilted his head in Lucian's direction, his gorgeous green eyes looking into Lucian's violet eyes curiously. "Uhh…umm…I uhh…" the boy was at a loss.

Flint's smile turned into a bitter expression, his eyebrows arched high, and eyes that looked like they could blast out laser beams. "Here, maybe THIS may jog your memory!" he moved his hand to Aaron's cowlick and yanked hard. So hard even Lucian heard the hairs being ripped right out of the boy's head—or perhaps it was his neck popping due to the rough jerk.

"AAAHH! FLINT, STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING ME!" Aaron cried, the tears cascading back down his face with a vengeance. Lucian saw what this monster was doing to his dove-eyed sweetheart—it struck daggers in his heart. He immediately removed his hand from Aaron's shoulder and onto Flint's wrist, digging his nails in his skin.

IF I HAD A MOUTH, I'D BE SHOVING POPCORN DOWN IT! ANYONE ELSE WANNA PLAY MORTAL KOMBAT?

"You little faggot! You weren't paying attention, as usual, to anything, so when you decided to get up and go be a good little ass-kiss and help out Bertha, you took one plate and tripped on _your own shoe which doesn't even have laces _and dropped a plate right on the back of my head!" Flint shouted. He pulled on Aaron's cowlick harder. "AHH! AHH, FLINT! STOP PLEASE!" He shouted. His tears seeped onto Lucian's arm, making the older man snap.

Dude, you are so screwed right now.

"Let…go…of…MY…AARON!" Lucian exclaimed, putting on arm over Aaron's head, wrapping his hand on the base of his cowlick, then with the hand on Flint's wrist, he pulled back with all his might, digging his nails deeper into his skin, almost drawing blood.

Flint let go of his cowlick, Lucian then releasing him. Flint jumped out of his seat and rammed into Lucian, pushing him back harshly. The older man lost balance trying to stand straight, falling back down. Flint took the opportunity to grab Aaron again by his hair then position him in a headlock. "Oh, and it doesn't stop there, you little fag! All the little bits of broken china got stuck in my hair so badly that there was no other way to take it out… resulting in THE BACK HALF OF MY HEAD MISSING!" Flint shouted, constricting his muscles around Aaron's neck.

What the Hell is he talking abou—woah-oh, woah-oh AAAHHHH! HE'S BALD! OH GOD, YOU'RE SO UGLY!

Lucian looked at the ceiling questionably. "What in the wor—oh…" Lucian saw what Flint meant from the view he currently had. The back of his head had a huge bald spot, which was a very unattractive picture. It was a train-wreak: don't look…don't look…don't look…shit, I'm staring, aren't I?

"…Ack…Lucia—ack…" Aaron wheezed. His pretty porcelain skin was now a pale blue, and Flint's arm just squeezed harder around his taut neck.

Lucian, get up! You're boyfriend's dying over there!

The elder Elite gasped; _he's not my boyfriend yet, _he thought to himself before pouncing back on his feet and running back around Flint, where he wove his hand into the top of Flint's afro, pulling back roughly.

"Let go of my precious little dove, or I will pull you down and drag the rest of your head into the fireplace," Lucian said civilly. Flint's eyes widened. He reluctantly let go of the boy, his body flopping down on the floor. "My dove!" Lucian gasped, pushing Flint back carelessly to tend to the youngest Elite.

He needs mouth-to-mouth, Lucian! I heard it works best when you put a little tongue in it!

Lucian's face flushed dark red. "How can you hear; you don't even have ears!"

You're missing the point, hon.

Lucian let out a low growl. _Gasp…_ Aaron finally caught his breath, his face now back to its beautiful porcelain coloration. "Lucian…" he whispered. The lavender-haired man lowered his head down to Aaron's level. "My darling, are you alright? Oh, my sweet Aaron, my dearest…" Aaron smiled weakly, bringing his arms up around Lucian's neck. "I'm ok. You saved me." the youngest Elite giggled lightly, softly pushing his arms down on Lucian's neck, bringing him closer to his face.

"There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, Aaron. My sweet, adorable little love." Their eyes were locked on each other's. They exchanged breaths, their hearts being the only sound in one another's ears. Lucian shifted over Aaron, lying on top of the younger boy. One hand trailed down to Aaron's waist, the other cupping his cheek. "I love you." Lucian whispered.

Aww, this is so cute! No one make a sound, we don't wanna ruin the moment!

Aaron's eyes fluttered shut, puckering his lips readily. Lucian tilted slightly and closed his eyes, and kissed his darling delicately. This was it, he thought. Everything in the world had lost meaning. Yet somewhere inside him, there was a reason. A bright, shining reason—his motivation for waking up every day and putting up with Flint's crap, Cynthia's dim-wittedness, and trainer's attitudes. This motivation was called "Aaron", and he was madly in love with his reason. The kiss slowly became more passionate, their soft lips meshing in time with every movement. Lucian's tongue found itself probing Aaron's, tantalizing the younger Elite into a hormone-controlled paralysis. _Mmm, some motivation needed, my dove?_, the Psychic Elite thought. He bit onto Aaron's lower lip gently, causing him to gasp aloud.

"Ohhh…" the boy moaned, allowing his tongue to dive into Lucian's mouth, swirling with his wildly. The exchanging of more than just heat was a lot for the younger Elite to take in. But he wanted to feel Lucian this way, and many more ways later. Their tongue twisted around each other's, Aaron expelling small moans here and there.

Hot damn. If I had a gender, and that gender was 'male', well, you know…

Lucian broke the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva in between the two.

—this is awesome…

Out of breath, Aaron opened his eyes and stared into Lucian's endearingly. "I love you, too, Lucian." The boy whispered dazedly. The two embraced, Lucian feeling a completeness never felt before, and Aaron feeling what a teenage boy would normally feel after such an experience.

"Ugh, get a room! Ewwwwwwwww!" Flint spat. He covered his eyes at the scene, turning away.

"Oh, but this _is _a room. So I believe Aaron and I have a nice place to play in." Lucian remarked seductively. He got on his knees, straddling Aaron. The younger boy blushed madly. "Lucian…" he purred, brushing his knee against his superior's inner thigh. "Ah… well, now…" Lucian dove his head down to Aaron's neck. "Ohhh, Lucian!"

Flint gagged. "EY! KEEP IT PG-13, PLEASE! GAHHH, THIS IS SOOO GROSS!" a multitude of rhythmic, smacking, wet sounds accompanied by Aaron's..um..other sounds filled the room, giving Flint some rather nightmarish images.

If only I were a person! I would so video tape this!

In the middle of a rather passionate almost-sex, the door clicked open.

"Helloooooooo, my wonderful friends!" Cynthia cheered, spinning on her heel, closing the door behind her. She giggled a little before stopping to catch Lucian over Aaron, the younger Elite in a position whose description is going to be left unsaid for it is definitely not safe for work, and Flint cowering in a corner.

The three Elites looked at her, an awkward silence filling the room. The only sound in the air was the fire crackling in the fireplace…

NO! Go away! You don't belong in this story!

Cynthia whipped around. "What? Who said that?" she cried.

Lucian gasped in response. "YOU CAN HEAR IT, TOO?"

"I'VE HAD IT WITH YOU CRAZY MOFOS TALKING TO THE CEILING!" Flint shouted.

"SEE, SEE? I'M NOT CRAZY! SHE HEARS IT, TOO!" Lucian raved, letting his hand go of… _Aaron_…

Oh, crap! She's onto me!

"Oh my God, it talked to me again!" the blond girl slapped her hands on the sides of her face.

"I can't hear anything! You people are nuts! Nuts I say! NUTS!" Flint yelled.

"It knows we can hear it! It knows everything! IT KNOWS!" Lucian raved on, then proceeded to do certain oral honors to his little lover.

"Ahn! I—ah!—can't hear anything, guys! Mmph, but I—_gasp!—_really—_gasp!—_don't—_gasp!—_CAAAAAAAAARRRRRREEE!" Aaron completely threw the fact that his new lover was a raging loon out the window, and decided it was best to just ignore everyone.

"I knew the new surround sound equipment was faulty! I'm complaining!" Cynthia stomped her foot on the ground, promptly leaving the den fuming about money well-wasted.

"Wait for me!" Flint shouted. He ran after Cynthia, shutting the den door.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW THE VOICE WAS HERE! IT CAN BE HEARD! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHHHHHHH, AARON! CELEBRATE WITH ME AS I PENETRAITE YOU MADLY!" Lucian had officially snapped (not really, he's still sane, just gloating a little too much), and proceeded to just hit a home-run with Aaron.

"Oh, my life roooooooooooooooooocks!" Aaron shouted.

I'll leave these two to their privacy. Well, I'm just glad I was of assistance in Lucian's complications! Good bye, everyone! Who knows, perhaps I'll be back again one day!

~The End (of Lucian and Aaron's chapters)~

THERE'S STILL ONE MORE LEFT. SO WAIT PATIENTLY, OR I'LL SHOOT YOUR MATH TEACHER!


	3. Chapter 3

Doubt Truth to be a Liar

"La la lalala la la lalala la…" sang the young blond Champion as she placed a cookie sheet in the oven, setting the timer to about forty-five minutes. It was Winter, which meant baking cookies and making hot cocoa for Cynthia, Sinnoh's Champion of the Pokémon league. She was currently attending an all-Elite Christmas party at Ever Grande City in the Hoenn region. She felt compelled to bake cookies for the party, and as a thank you for a certain Steel-type Champion who opted to host the party this year.

Cynthia took in the scent of her chocolate chip cookies which was now filling the air sweetly, permeating throughout the kitchen. "Mmm, I sure do hope Steven likes these! I made them with a little extra love, just for him!" the blond Champion sang, blushing at the thought of Steven enjoying her delicious cookies. It was all she wanted—to make the man happy. His steely-blue eyes looking into her metallic grey ones, a big smile stretching across his face, complimenting Cynthia for her wonderful baking.

Hey, Blondie, if I were you, those wouldn't necessarily be the kinds of cookies I'd be giving him, if you know what I'm saying.

"Oh! Hello? Is anyone there?" Cynthia asked. There was a brief silence, except for the oven dial ticking.

I'm here!

"But where?" she questioned, turning her head at the kitchen door, which remained unopened.

Well, you can't see me, but I'm just here to help out the cute little Blondie making cookies for her crush.

"Cute little Blondie?" Cynthia blinked then pointed at herself. "You mean me?"

There ain't any other cute Blondies by the name of 'Cynthia' here, now is there? Unless, y'know, things were made unaware to me about the subject—of which I seriously doubt.

Cynthia tilted her head. "Nooooo, no, just me who sounds like the way you described here. Hey, didn't you say you were helping with something?"

Got that right, hon.

"With the cookies? I'm ok by myself, though…"

No, chicky-poo, helping with your boyfriend issues.

"Boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend." Cynthia shrugged. Her eyes darted up to the ceiling, wondering if that's where the voice was coming from.

God, you're such a virgin…I mean about helping you get your boyfriend! Mr. Whats-his-name, uh, Steven Stoner!

"It's 'Stone'." Cynthia corrected.

Why would you know his last name? So that you'll be certain that your married name is 'Cynthia Stone'?

Cynthia blushed. "Hey! That's none of your business!"

Sweetie, everything's my business. Again, I'm just here to help you out.

"How are you gonna help me? I can't even see you!"

Here's how it works, doll: there are these factors that play out in sequential order for you…

~(Oda)Fin(Tutuola)~

Bejeebus, it's ALIVE! Hope everyone liked it. Imma listen to some Kanon Wakeshima, but REMEMBER! PLEASE give the poor writer some ideas, please! I'm gonna finish Lolitawork Libretto soon, but afterwards, I'll have nothing to do! So pull whatever you can out of your ass and hand it over (I mean that in every literal sense). Read and review, then hand an idea for Christmas. Danke!


End file.
